


Daddy's Lullaby

by QueenForADay



Series: Fake AH Crew Songifcs [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Fake AH Crew, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Original Character(s), Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3211160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenForADay/pseuds/QueenForADay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After fleeing the scene of an ambush, Gavin returns to what remains of his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daddy's Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even sorry.
> 
> For the purposes of this...lets all pretend The Hanging Tree is Ryan's lullaby...

Gavin staggered through the bullet-torn streets of Los Santos. His ears were still ringing with the sounds of the ambush – the bullets whirling past him, the thumping of bodies dropping to the floor, the broken off cries from his friends – his _family_.

 _Please, please,_ he chanted to himself. He didn’t know whether he was saying this out loud, or was the tormented voice in his head still speaking to him through the haze of fear and anger. Gavin was so lost in a mix of emotions, he wasn’t sure.

In his life living in Los Santos with his crew, he took notice on how remarkably unfazed people where when a man covered head to toe in blood staggered a broken jog up the street.

“Please still be there,” he said to himself, the first words that came clearly out of his mouth. “Please for the love of God.”

Their hideout wasn’t a hideout as such – it was a tower. As he staggered further and further up the pavement to the building, he could make out faint details. Windows were broken, and glass was scattered in shards or pieces in front of their tower, and there was definitely bullet holes in the structure itself.

He had seen that before – he reminded himself – but it was the blatantly obvious detail about the tower that made him nearly fall over his own feet.

The door was opened – not by a crack, or the lock unhinged, but the frame was battered and hinges swung noisily as a body staggered out into the open before collapsing to the pavement.

Gavin picked up his pace until he could make out who the body on the street was – Caleb.

Collapsing down beside the fallen man, Gavin saw the extent of what the opposing gang did. They went to town, as was their trademark as Geoff had told him. Some part of Gavin admired the way Caleb’s opened mouth was still dragging pitiful bits of air into his lungs. His eyes were glazed over, but managed to roll them to where Gavin knelt beside him.

Gavin swallowed. “Did they get inside the penthouse?”

Caleb opened his mouth to speak, but only a wheezing, painful sort of noise came out, and answered instead with a dim shake of his head.

“They’re dead, then?”

A nod.

“And Emily?”

Caleb squeezed his eyes shut and forced in a final gush of air before stuttering, “S-safe, s-sir.”

Gavin didn’t wait for the eventual noise of death that would come from Caleb, but gathered his strength and hauled himself through the busted door, up the stairs cluttered with bodies of armoured men and blood streaked walls. The tower’s stairs wound and wound until heaving for breath, Gavin let himself fall into the sturdy door of their penthouse, unmarked and not a body in sight.

“Emily?” Gavin called out, punching in the code and staggering through the door into the living area. Everything was so clean, so bright – so untouched. It only reminded a voice in the back of Gavin’s head that he was covered in blood – some his own oozing from somewhere and some had come from... – but Gavin pushed it away and sought out Geoff’s study.

_“She knows what to do,” Geoff had muttered under his breath as the crew drove to the warehouse. A heist contract was waiting for them, a heist contract full of promise. That was only an hour ago. Gavin didn’t understand what the man had said fully until he found himself face to face with Ryan’s pleading eyes, with the muffled sound of FIND EMILY somehow getting through to him._

Geoff’s study was at the end of a long corridor, sealed away from their own quarters. He had always believed that their business lives needed to be kept somewhere, and their personal lives elsewhere. Opening the door, he looked around. Nothing.

“Emily?” he repeated, his voice already straining from the shouting and yelling he had earlier done.

A soft thudding noise came from the opposite of the room – from near Geoff’s computer system. Gavin shuffled over, keeping his eyes fixed on the large desk that covered one side of the room. A thudding noise became a knock, and then a creek. Gavin peered over the edge of the desk to see one of Geoff’s large chests. Unhinged, the lid of the box lifted up gently and Gavin almost sobbed at the sight of two bright blue eyes peering out at him.

A small laugh came from him. “Emmy, what are you doing in there?”

The lid opened completely and the girl crawled out. “Uncle Geoff told me when you were going to help with the heist – so I did.”

Gavin opened his arms – completely aware of the sight he must have been – but the girl jumped into his chest anyways. “You did an amazing job helping, love,” Gavin said, combing his fingers through her hair that reminded him too much of Ryan’s.

He sat back onto the floor and gathered the girl into his arms properly and hung onto her for dear life.

“Pa?”

The voice was muffled, but Gavin pulled back only to realise that Emily had pushed her face into his leather jacket. “You’re crying.”

He _was_ crying. Emily, only seven and smarter than most of the crew, frowned and put a hand on Gavin’s eye. “Why are you crying?”

“Sweetheart, I need you to do something, okay?” Gavin said, casting a quick glance to the opened study door leading out to the main corridor of the penthouse. There may be no one in the house, but the warehouse was crawling with thugs, and thugs who could easily notice that only five of six members of the Fake AH crew were dead.

Emily nodded. “Go to your room,” he explained calmly, blinking back the oncoming tears. “And pack everything you need. We’re going to go on a road-trip for a bit, just you and me kid.”

Emily’s frown only deepened but she nodded. “Okay, pa.”

 

*

 

The tears wouldn’t stop. He thought that spending years in the crew with his family would numb his emotions on death. But when it was his own family who saw the end of a gun’s barrel...

Sitting in his own room, night was starting to roll in. He had explained to Emily that she had to keep the lights off, much to the horror the child who absolutely hated the dark. She always had – when they picked her up all those years ago, she was a shy, nervous little thing. After a heist went surprisingly well, Gavin remembers heading back to the jet with the others until he heard Ryan’s hurried footsteps come up behind him.

_“What the hell does he want?” Michael barked, turning around only to widen his eyes. “What the fuck?”_

_The rest did the same and followed the same reaction when the saw a small child following Ryan, with one hand clutched tightly around his. “Where did you go?” Gavin spoke softly, catching a quick glimpse of the girl with tousled hair and dirt covered clothes._

_“I was checking their servers inside the main house, to make sure they couldn’t follow us again when,” Ryan turned to haul the girl up into his arms. She stuck one tiny fist into her mouth and hid in Ryan’s neck at the several pairs of eyes all staring at them. “I found her.”_

_“We pick up money and ammunition from heists, Haywood,” Geoff said suddenly. “Not kids.”_

_“Her parents are inside on the floor,” Ryan retorted sharply. Gavin strode forward a few steps, gently raising a hand to touch the girl’s back. A quick flinch was all she gave until she buried herself further into Ryan’s embrace. Gavin turned his head to look back at the others. “She’s only a toddler – we can’t leave her without parents.”_

_Michael and Ray both swapped glances before turning to the remaining elders. Jack always sided with Geoff, but there was something in his eyes when he saw the shaking body of the girl. “They’re right,” he said softly, looking up at Geoff._

_The man sighed before he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are there any others left inside?”_

_“No,” Ryan replied._

_“Are you sure?”_

_Ryan frowned. “They’re all dead. She’s all that’s left.”_

_Gavin met the elder’s gaze, and even saw the look the girl managed to flicker across to him from peering out from her hiding place. He gave the girl a small smile, and it grew even bigger at the one that ghosted the corners of hers._

_“I’ll call Caleb and tell him to set up a room,” Michael said, pulling out his phone and following the others as they filed into the jet waiting for them. Ryan cradled the girl with one arm, while reaching for Gavin’s hand to follow the others._

_“You can sleep on the plane, sweetheart,” the Brit heard the elder murmur into the brownish-blonde hair. “You’re safe now.”_

The sound of his room’s door squeaking open shook Gavin from his thoughts as Emily shuffled towards him and back into his arms. He had managed to take a shower and throw the bloodied clothes into the fire pit. But he still felt it on him – he was covered in it, and he doubted he could ever wash that feeling away.

“You’re safe now, sweetheart,” Gavin muttered as Emily shuffled around until she sat with her head resting on Gavin’s chest listing to – what he presumed to be – a racing heart.

“I know, pa,” she replied easily, as she had always done.

“Do you have your bags packed?”

She nodded, casting a quick glance up at him. “Where are we going?”

Gavin paused for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know, love.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “It’ll be an adventure.”

“I suppose it will.”

“Will daddy come on the adventure?”

Gavin swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. He shook his head. “No, darling. It’s just going to be you and me on this adventure.”

“Oh.”

That was it. That was the sound that Gavin swore broke his heart in his ribcage, as if it hadn’t been already. But he was sure that was the boot that crushed the few remaining pieces. Outside, the city’s lights began to flick on turning the room a mirage of colours. Emily’s head turned to see the colours filter in through the thin curtains that lined the wall of lancet windows. “It’s pretty, isn’t it sweetheart?”

“Yeah.”

The silence fell between them again until Gavin noticed that Emily seemed to get heavier in his arms. They should get going. Night was the best time to travel, and he had made sure food and water got into one of the spare cars Geoff had always kept in the garage. True to his thoughts, Emily’s eyes had slipped closed, but reopened again.

“Go to sleep, love,” he combed his fingers through her hair.

“I can’t,” she said blearily. _Not without Daddy._ The words, though unspoken, shot into the open silent air. Ryan used to sing to her every night religiously, to the point that when Emily would spend nights in their own room, Gavin found himself enjoying the soft rumble of Ryan’s voice.

But he could always remember the song Ryan sang. The words, although usually slipped over the girl’s innocent mind, struck Gavin to the core. He remembered when they first registered with him, about what Ryan had been singing to their daughter.

_Gavin turned in the bed to face Ryan who was holding a sleepy Emily in his arms. His eyes bore into the side of Ryan’s head, only to be met with Ryan’s blue ones as he only gave a slight nod._

_Once Emily had been put back to sleep, Gavin remained in bed, resting against the headboard listing to the faint thud of Ryan’s footsteps approaching._

_“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said sharply when Ryan stepped into their room._

_Closing the door behind him, Ryan replied, “She’s a smart kid.”_

_“That’s not what I asked - why are you singing that to her?”_

_Ryan strode to the bed before lifting the covers and slipping in beside Gavin. He reached to the other man’s hand before saying, “I want her to know what happens when the people she’s stuck with leave her...again.”_

_Gavin flinched. Ryan sighed through his nose and leant down to place a kiss on Gavin’s forehead, only to miss when the other turned back onto his side facing the other wall._

“Do you want me to sing to you sweetheart?”

Gavin stood up from the bed, gathering Emily into his arms. The girl took up her normal position when she was being carried, and clung to Gavin with everything she had. She nodded into his neck.

**“** **Are you, are you coming to the tree? They strung up a man they say who murdered three. Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be; If we met at midnight in the hanging tree.”**

_He remembers it all like a movie playing in his head – the eerie quietness of the warehouse, the darkness that was inside as they walked blindly into an ambush. All that Gavin heard was the choked off call from Ray before the sounds of guns loading surrounded him. Through the darkness he could make out the shadows of the others quickly scattering to every side of the warehouse. Gavin reached down to pull his gun from his holster._

_Hell itself erupted._

**“Are you, are you coming to the tree? Where a dead man called out for his love to flee. Strange things did happen here, Nn stranger would it be; If we met at midnight in the hanging tree.”**

_“God damn,” Geoff huffed as he vaulted over a stacking of wooden boxes. Gavin peered over the edge of their cover to see watery light coming from the florescent lights that had managed to flick on when the other gang exclaimed their horror that they couldn’t find anyone in the darkness. His own gang members had scattered to hiding behind crates or the corners of walls, all gripping their guns with tight holds._

_Gavin looked over to Geoff and winced. A streak of red drenched the left side of his suit. “You’re shot.”_

_“I’ve had worse,” the elder smiled, loading another mag into his gun. “You ready?”_

_Gavin nodded. The pair launched out from their cover and began firing bullet in quick succession, taking out the more armed of the attackers. From the corner of his eye, Gavin saw Ryan and Michael follow suit, alongside Jack who had a slight limp._

_They moved forward as a group to the next set of possible cover where they hid and reloaded. The bombing sounds of bullets belting into the surface of the crates seemed to surround Gavin as he numbly reloaded a mag into his handgun. His hands shook slightly, only to stop when the knuckle of Ryan’s index finger ran over the back of his hand._

_He met the elder’s gaze. Through the mask and the dark face paint underneath, Ryan’s eyes bore into his. “Leave.”_

_Gavin frowned. “What?”_

_Ryan didn’t respond but followed Geoff’s lead as they moved again from their position to the bulk of the gang. Several were already hit and fell without effort when hit again. Gavin noticed the absence of the other two to his other side when he saw Ray and Jack run to the other side of the group, leaving him alone behind the crates._

_“Fuck that,” Gavin muttered and loaded his gun, bracing himself for the hell he would launch himself into._

**“Are you, are you coming to the tree? Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free. Strange things did happen her,e no stranger would it be; If we met at midnight in the hanging tree.”**

_Ryan’s voice was the only noise he could hear; he bullets, the yelling, the crashing of crates and metal – nothing, only Ryan’s voice. Leave._

_The cemented floor of the warehouse had numbed the soles of Gavin’s feet as he ran as hard as he could through the systems of bleakly lit corridors and staked crates of ammunition. He knew this wasn’t the way he had entered the warehouse, but following the water piping ahead, he could map out a way to sneak out the back._

_Without stumbling, Gavin looked over his shoulder – nothing. No one was following him. He had encountered no one on his retreat out of the warehouse. Where was everyone?_

_Corridors led into more hallways, which eventually ended with a single bolted door. Finally._

_Gavin pushed open the door, which groaned loudly as he almost fell out into the cold Los Santos night air. He gasped as much air into his burning lungs as he scanned around. No gates, no fences – just the vast expanse of dirt leading to the city itself._

_He continued his running towards the lighting of the city, only to stumble at the muffled sounds of men. Talking, laughing, and cheering. Don’t look behind you, he told himself. Gavin shook his head again and continued running and gasping until a loud cheer caught his attention._

_Gavin looked over his shoulder and froze in his stride. A man clad in a outfit of black armour strode along the roof of the warehouse, with his arms splayed to either side. Below him, hanging over the side of the roof, was five beaten and broken bodies._

**“Are you, are you coming to the tree? Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me. Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be; If we met at midnight in the hanging tree.”**

Gavin gripped the steering wheel tighter. The illuminated streets of Los Santos whirled past as he drove straight for the mountains which looked over the city. He managed to secure a flight from Burnie who was all too willing to help when he heard about what had happened.

He cast a quick glance to his rear-view mirror to check on Emily. She was curled around herself deep in sleep. The occasional flicker of colour only showed the shadows under her eyes, and the sing trail of dampness down her cheek. _She’s a smart kid_ , Ryan had told him once. She knew what had happened, or the essence of it.

The words of the song still lingered in the silence of the car as Gavin ploughed on to the mountains. He often hummed to himself the tune, only to stop abruptly when Geoff had cast a warning glance his way.

Gavin shook his head.

The city’s lights began to dimmer down as the mountains came into view. He gave one quick glance to the backseat only to pause. Emily’s eyes met his in the mirror, glazed over with unshed tears. She gathered the sleeves of her sweater into his fist and curled tighter around herself.

Gavin began to hum as he drove towards the foot of the mountain. He hummed the familiar tune of Ryan’s lullaby to their girl. A small noise came from Emily as he slowly formed the humming sounds into words.

“A dead man called out,” he whispered, “for his love to flee.”

“Strange things did happen here,” Emily continued, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “No stranger would it be, if we meet at midnight at the hanging tree.”

Gavin gave the girl a small smile as he focused on the winding dirt road that would lead them to their new life. Their new life without Geoff’s guidance, without Jack’s caring, without Michael’s protectiveness, without Ray’s ambitions...without Ryan’s voice.


	2. Yellow Flicker Beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten years after the fall of the Fake AH crew, Emily Haywood-Free returns to Los Santos with nothing more than a list, a soundtrack and a loaded gun.

_This is a stupid idea._

Speeding her motorbike through the streets of Los Santos, Emily frowned at the voice in her head.  _This is a VERY stupid idea._  She shook it off as she always did and continued through the city, looking at the streets in front of her rather than the old lights of the city. She remembered the city’s lights – so bright and alluring, almost masking the fact that the city was nothing more than the gathering point of murderers, gamblers and everyone in between.

The city itself made her sick, as did its people. Since fleeing the city with her Pa almost ten years ago, she thought about going back for one reason – find whoever took her dad and uncles away from her.

Swerving off the main street, she slowed down one of the streets she knew led to a series of apartment buildings. Even through the darkness of the night and the dim view the visor of her helmet, she could make out the colours of the buildings; the one in red with a large penthouse at the top – the one bordering the main city of Los Santos and its suburbs. True enough to Burnie’s detective work, she found the building where he had said it would be.

She pulled up a few metres from the building itself so she could assess her plan one final time. Sorola would be in the penthouse surrounded by his guys. Burnie had given her maps of the building – how the floors were lain out, were walls gave way to vents she could ease herself into, which way would offer the best escape. The lights from the penthouse were on, so someone was definitely home. Even if anyone wasn’t, Emily would have been perfectly happy waiting until one of Sorola’s crew or Sorola himself wandered back.

She pulled off her helmet and fished inside her leather jacket for her phone and headphones. This was the only piece of her plan that bought a questioning look from Burnie when during one of his many ramblings on how this whole vendetta against Sorola was stupid, she flicked through her music listening for words that struck a chord with her.

She put her phone back into her pocket and started her stalk towards the building’s main door, letting the muffled sounds of singing ring out into her mind. The trip through the doors and to the elevator would be easy – a lot of civilians lived in the floors leading up to the penthouse, unlike the tower she used to live in.

Some people in the reception area of the building turned to look at her while she stalked passed them. She couldn’t help but smile – the way she looked now she presumed most of them hadn’t seen it in a while at least.

By passing a business-looking couple, she made her way into the elevator and pressed the button for the penthouse. The door closed behind her as she reached around for the pistol holstered around the back of her waist, underneath the layers of a bulletproof vest and a leather jacket. On the drive over here, she couldn’t remember how many times she reached behind to feel if it was still there – her Pa’s gun, as he refused to let her into the lifestyle he once lived.

The lights above the elevator’s door drew closer to the final one marked in capital letters “PRIVATE”.

 _There will be guards just outside the door_ , Burnie’s voice rung through the noise that boomed into her ears. After spending years listening to her music at full volume through noise-cancelling headphones, she had often wondered why she wasn’t deaf.  _God, you sound like Pa_ , her own voice joined that of Burnie’s.

The elevator came to a stop and before the doors could open, she pulled out her gun and loaded the first mag in. She had learnt a lot from her Pa, even though he wouldn’t let her join a crew of her own, he still taught her how to kill and how to avoid being killed. With enough bullets for Sorola’s men, she let her other hand drop down to her knife belt.  _That_  was what she would get him with – her dad’s own knife that Gavin managed to sneak out of their home all those years ago.

The doors pulled open and true to Burnie’s word, two men in black suits turned to see the poor soul who dared come up this far. A silencer had been fitted to Emily’s pistol as she raised it with a steady hand and shot the two men point-blank in the foreheads before stalking out into the long, white corridor. The muffled thump of their bodies wouldn’t attract too much attention, but Emily’s mind was elsewhere, mulling over the words pouring into her mind.

 _And my necklace is a rope_ , Emily swallowed a lump forming in her throat.  _I tie it and untie it_.

Down the corridor, three more hallways veered off into offices and bedrooms.  _Keep to the right, in the front room is a living area._

Emily followed her head and met another handful of guards who met the same end as their comrades to the front of the penthouse. The further into the home she went, the more empty it seem to become. Whether or not that would work in her favour, she dreaded to guess.

Sorola was dangerous, she understood that. Los Santos was dangerous but that didn’t stop her from taking a trek of a journey here with nothing more than a motorbike and a gun –  _both of which you stole from Pa_ , she chastised herself. He would understand. He had too – they took something from AH, so they should have no problem with AH taking something from them.

The layout of the penthouse proved to be more difficult than floor plans had led her to believe, but she somehow managed to stop dead in her tracks at the sight of a frosted-glass paned wall in front of her. Inside the room, she saw only one person – a man, resting leisurely on a couch with his back to her.

She had a surplus of remaining bullets in her gun. She looked down to her hand where she held tightly to the handle but thought against it –  _kill Sorola with the knife, draw it out for him_. She put the gun back into the holster behind her and unsheathed her knife. Although it hadn’t been used in nearly ten years, Emily made it a priority to keep it sharp and clean. Her dad would have wanted it that way.

Pulling out her phone, she paused the song as she stepped inside the room. Blistering heat met her as she gently put one foot in front of the other – mindful of the floorboards underneath her heeled boots, but also locking her eyes on the back of Sorola’s head.

As she approached, Sorola’s head was tilted back enough for her to see that his eyes were closed. She manoeuvred around the side of the armchair he was sitting in until Emily stood in front of him with the knife clutched tightly in her hand. Her eyes wandered up to the door, opened slightly for her to look out into the hallway just in case more men showed up.  _Kill him_ , Burnie’s voice returned.  _Kill him the first chance you get_.

Without hesitation, Emily put all of her strength into plunging the dagger’s blade straight into Sorola’s hand which rested on one of the armchair’s rests. His eyes shot open as he lurched forward, but stopped mid-scream when he was met with Emily’s face.

She crouched down so she could look him in the eye. “Gustavo Sorola,” she said almost emotionlessly.

“Who the fuck are you?!” He gasped, looking at the knife embedded into the back of his hand, pinning it to the leather of the chair. Ryan’s voice seeped through the others swarming around her head, telling her to either shoot him in the head, run or repeating what she shouldn’t be here. But her father’s voice told her something different, almost reminding her why she chose to plunge the knife into the bastard’s hand rather than his throat.  _There are so many blood vessels in the hand_ , he told her once after returning from a heist with a bandaged and bloodied hand.  _If not treated, they could die rather slowly, but thankfully I have someone like you Pa looking after me_.

She could pull the dagger out, let the arteries and veins spew blood and use the knife for more cuts elsewhere. She decided to leave it as she drawled, “I thought you might recognised this.”

She gestured to her face – painted with red, black and white, she tried her best to remember the way in which Ryan painted his face, almost readying himself for war. He had let her help one time, sitting her on his lap and handing her a brush.

Sorola took in the patterns before his eyes narrowed. “You’re that Haywood bitch.”

“Haywood-Free,” she corrected him, reaching for the handle of the dagger to move it around slightly. She could practically feel the tendons ripping.

Sorola clenched his jaw at the pain scoring up his arm. “Free? I had heard that twink was running the back-end of Haywood but I didn’t know how deep that farce went.”

Emily narrowed her eyes. “My father died at your hands,” she muttered lowly. “And my dad rots away to memories you’ve left him with.”

“I apologise,” Sorola bit back tilting forward to stare at her. “If I knew he had been so badly affected, I should have killed him too.”

Emily drew a sharp breath before whipping the back of her hand across Sorola’s face. His head snapped to the side before he let out a chuckle. “You are most definitely a Haywood,” he laughed, lolling his head back. “Prove it.”

“I endeavour to,” she finished before grabbing the knife’s handle and yanking it haphazardly out of Sorola’s hand. Before he could react fast enough, Emily flipped the dagger around to plunge it into his lower abdomen. Another guttural sound of pain fell out of Gus’ mouth before the knife was once again removed and hit somewhere else. All of the places that hurt like a bitch, but wasn’t lethal enough to kill – at least not quickly, anyway.

A small smile pulled at Emily’s lips as the puncture wounds ended up rendering Sorola limp and gasping for breath. Small specks of blood formed around his lips, only to be coughed away when a bout of seizing coughing took hold. “I should leave you here like this,” she whispered, leaning forward. “I should let you die like this – cut up like a piece of meat form an animal. Your men outside are dead. If I meet more on the way down, I’ll kill them too. But I want to make sure you die.”

Emily stood up from her crouching position to stand tall in front of her father’s killer. “I want to leave this building knowing you’re lying in a pool of your own blood.”

She pulled out the gun again before hearing the faint click of a bullet loading. Sorola looked up at her while she raised her arm. “If I meet Haywood in Hell,” he rasped, his voice strained from the pain. “I’ll tell him all about his daughter.”

Emily frowned and squeezed the trigger, sighing with the noise of the bullet meeting its target.

 

*

 

Gavin sat silently on the front porch to his safe house. Burnie shuffled inside the home as he often did – for ten years straight, he had visited Gavin and Emily and helped them through what plagued them. Right now, he had offered to cook the pair dinner.

In his hand, he crumpled the note he had found one the dining room table that morning.

_Pa,_

_My birthday is coming up, and some of the girls invited me for an outing. I know its short notice, but I can take care of myself, and I’ll be back in a few days._

_Stay safe!_

_Emily_

Gavin frowned at the wording – Emily was a loner in school, one too many of her teachers had told Gavin as her grades started to slump. She never had friends come over, and not once had she even mentioned having people like that in her life. To his understanding, the only people in her life were either himself, or dead.

 Their house was perched on a hill hidden away from the city they now called home. Their house, although small, was a safe haven for Gavin as his mental state ‘went to shit’ as Burnie had told him.

He thought about going back into the house to help Burnie with diner when he heard the soft humming of a motorbike coming up the narrow laneway leading up to the house. He stood up from his chair and tugged his sweater around him as the rider swerved into the driveway.

The noise inside the house stopped as Gavin looked over his shoulder to see a wide-eyed Burnie standing at the door’s portal. “Well shit,” he muttered under his breath.

“Why do I think that you have something to do with this?” Gavin said softly, looking the elder man straight in the eye.

“I had hoped to have you inside the house so she could sneak past,” he commented, running a hand through his greying hair. Gavin huffed a breath before stepping down onto the driveway. A hand grabbed him by the upper arm. Gavin looked over his shoulder again but was met by a pair of solemn eyes. “Before you take off yelling at her, know it was my idea.”

The pair remained like that until the sound of boots walking on gravel was heard. Gavin turned to face his daughter, who had her helmet under her arm. He walked towards her.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Emily said, looking down at her boots before back up at Gavin who kept on his track towards her. “I know you’re going to say that it was stupid and irrational and dangerous – but they needed to know that the AH crew can’t be wiped out that easily!  They deserved what happed!”

Emily stopped when Gavin stood in front of her with his arms crossed and face unreadable. She swallowed and looked down at her boots. “I’m sorry Pa,” she mumbled.

Gavin remained silent as he hooked a finger underneath her chin and raised her eyes to meet his. “You went to Los Santos?” he rasped.

Emily gave a curt nod.

“You sought out Sorola’s gang?”

She nodded again.

Gavin sighed. “You killed him?” he asked as he looked down at her red-stained hands.

Emily bit the inside of her lip before nodding. “I’m sorry Pa.”

She heard him sigh again before she felt him bracket her face with both of his hands. “I worried for you – I thought you ran away. That was what destroyed me – I thought I hadn’t provided you enough care like Ryan had.”

She winced as Gavin’s voice cracked slightly over Ryan’s name. She shook her head. “Of course not, Pa.”

Gavin rubbed his thumbs over Emily’s cheekbones, smudging the paint still lingering on her skin. He leant forward and kissed her forehead before heading back to the house. “Burnie’s making dinner for us, so get washed up,” he called over his shoulder. Emily hurried along beside him until they reached the steps to the house.

Burnie still stood on the porch, arms crossed in front of him and a slight smile on his lips. “It suits you,” he commented, gesturing to the paint on Emily’s face. A broad smile overtook her lips before it faded again when Gavin raised an eyebrow.

He looked at her once over – the tall build, bulked up slightly with layers underneath that worn-down leather jacket, and the same sandy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail – he smiled. “It really does,” he said, leading her inside.

The smile returned to Emily’s lips as she headed for her room to change. As she ascended the stairs, she paused when Burnie and Gavin’s voice followed behind.

“She’s going to grow up just like him,” Burnie stated, followed by the clanking of plates being deposited on the dining table.

Gavin looked towards the stairs where he saw the shadow of his daughter cast onto the wall, knowing full well that she was listening. “God help me if she does.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really not sorry.
> 
> Bonus points to anyone who spots the reference (Not the Hunger Games reference...there's another one)


End file.
